


no use wishing on the water, it grants you no relief

by unwindmyself



Category: Aquaman (2018)
Genre: Childhood, Family Dynamics, Female Friendship, Gen, Royalty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 12:41:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18388670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: Mera is young, recently introduced to Atlantean society, and full of opinions (and anger). Atlanna helps ease the transition.





	no use wishing on the water, it grants you no relief

**Author's Note:**

> I have read exactly two (2) comics that deal with Atlantis, which is to say _Mera: Queen of Atlantis_ and _DC Bombshells_ , so influences from those might be present but it's pretty much movie and intuition.
> 
> I honestly have no idea if the movies will ever bring Hila into the equation, but at least her existence is useful backstory. I also understand that the New 52/ _Bombshells_ version of her is very different than the original, but since, again, _Bombshells _is what I know, that's the version that's mentioned here.__
> 
>  
> 
> _  
> _This is just a story about baby Mera feeling things._  
>  _

Mera has only been in the Atlantean court for a matter of days, but she hates it passionately. She hates how elegant everything appears, how everyone simpers instead of saying what they mean. She hates that she’s not allowed to go wherever she wants whenever she wants. She hates the way her sister follows the courtiers around, basking in their finery and attention without seeing that it’s really just pity. She hates the way her father disdains the court but tries to make good with them anyway. Most of all she hates that nobody will dare mention her mother, not even her father or her sister.

Oh, to be sure, Atlantis is more comfortable than Xebel. The technology is more refined, the architecture neater, the colors brighter, the culture less violent. (Hila loves all of it, but especially that part: she does not share Mera’s magic and hydrokinetics, nor her aptitude for physical combat.) But it’s not home.

She and her sister share chambers here, and of course Hila has already made “friends” with the few girls near their age at court and often has them in the room, which means that Mera has to be creative when she wants to be alone.

She’s been learning the layout as best she can without having free reign of the palace (though being fair, she doesn’t truly have that in Xebel, either, but she’s quick and clever and nobody catches her) and just now, that’s led her to a little nook on the roof, amongst the towers and arches. It’s peaceful, but she’s there for hardly any time at all before she feels a tap on her shoulder.

 _Oh_.

It’s the prince. He’s a few years older than her, she thinks, but he acts several years younger, and she’s certain she could beat him in a fight. Now that he’s touched her, she’s started to consider finding out.

“Princess Y’Mera,” he says, sitting beside her with a (terrible, smug) smile.

“Prince Orm,” she replies, imitating her sister’s put-on hauteur. “I was admiring the view.”

He laughs, and maybe he means it kindly but it doesn’t sound kind. “You were hiding,” he says. “Your father said you like to do that.” As if he’s closer to being a compatriot of Nereus’ than a playmate of hers. As if they’ve been gossiping about her behind her back.

“I needed to be alone,” she says carefully. “Atlantis is more hectic than home.” This isn’t a lie, but she hates it even more for that fact. She hates admitting even so small a weakness to this boy.

“It’s alright,” Orm says, flashing a slightly nicer smile. “I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

Mera almost makes a face, but she’s not a fool. She just smiles and says, again like her sister might, “That’s good of you.”

“I care for all of my subjects,” he says grandly.

She has to bite her tongue to keep from saying _I’m not your subject_ or - harsher, perhaps - _you mean your father’s subjects?_ “A noble aspiration,” she murmurs instead.

“You’re a clever girl, aren’t you, Princess?” he asks, but it’s not the kind of question you answer. (The answer is yes, and Mera knows it. Her mother would tell her, beaming proudly; her father would even have to concede it.)  “I think you’ll make a wonderful queen someday.”

“Thank you,” Mera says, lifting her chin proudly (that she doesn’t even have to pretend: this is her purpose in life). “I will be a credit to Xebel in all I do.”

Orm nods sagely. “Seeing their princess at the side of the king of Atlantis will be a true honor,” he says, perfectly calm and even possibly amused.

Mera, however, is neither thing. “What did you say?”

“We’re to be engaged,” he declares. “Your father has all but promised my father.” Yes. He’s amused by this. Curse him for it.

“Wha-” But Mera’s protestations are cut off by Orm putting his (chapped, awful) lips on hers. It’s plenty chaste, but - but she’s a child (as much as she wants to pretend she isn’t) and she didn’t expect it (why would she have?) and _no one kisses a princess of Xebel without her explicit permission!_

So she does the only reasonable thing. She yanks back and punches him in the nose. “Serves you right!” she squeals, and she swims away before he can realize what, in fact, just happened.

There’s nowhere in the palace that she feels safe, knowing that her father sold her off to these people he can barely stand, knowing that no one in Atlantis would dare take her side over their prince’s. Yet if she goes into the city, someone will just follow her and bring her back, won’t they? And then it’ll be back to more of the same.

She goes up instead.

She’s never been this far up before. There’s no reason to go to the surface, she’s too young for that and besides, she’s never wanted to, but she goes as far up as she can before Atlantis starts to push back on her and she’s overcome with exhaustion. She is still in the kingdom’s confines, technically, but it’s so… empty up here. Just some plants and rocks and sea. She feels so alone she could cry, and before she knows it she’s doing just that.

She cries in the horrible, full-bodied way she did after her mother died, when the sobs rack your body and you have to choose between crying or breathing. She’s always been told not to cry, or to wait until no one was looking if she absolutely couldn’t help it, because if admitting discomfort is weak and therefore unappealing, what sin must that make crying? Nobody is looking, so she doesn’t bother to stop herself.

She cries, and she cries, and she considers just drawing the tears out of herself so she can’t cry them anymore, but she doesn’t think she could do that without killing herself. That’s a tempting thought for a moment, but that would mean that Orm and her father had won.

Then she hears a soft voice ask, “Princess?”

Mera blinks and all but throws the tears off of her cheeks. It’s, of all people, the queen, Atlanna. The only Atlantean royal that Mera doesn’t currently hate.

“I’m sorry,” Mera says, almost gasping out the words. “I didn’t mean to… I just kept going and going and then I was here.”

Something in Atlanna’s face softens. (It wasn’t a hard face to begin with, but yet it softens.) “You’re not in trouble,” she promises. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Mera bites her lip. “I’m fine,” she says. “I can fight.”

“How old are you?” Atlanna asks.

“Almost nine,” Mera says stubbornly. When adults ask that, it usually means they’re about to say she can’t or shouldn’t do something. “But I’ve been learning to fight since my fifth birthday, as is proper for a noble daughter of Xebel.”

Atlanna shakes her head. “But you shouldn’t have to.”

“I am always ready to fight,” Mera says.

Something about this seems to make Atlanna sad, but she shakes her head to dislodge that feeling and instead says, “Sometimes I also like to swim very far away. To clear my head.”

“That’s it, that’s what I had to do,” Mera says quickly. “No offense meant, Your Highness, but Atlantis is very loud.”

“It can be,” Atlanna agrees. “Come sit with me awhile, Princess Y’Mera? If you care to talk, I’ll gladly listen.”

It would be rude to refuse the queen, so Mera nods and swims over to join Atlanna on a nearby rock. She says, “Just Mera, if you please. I like that better.” It’s shy, but she likes Atlanna and wants her to feel like a friend. She feels, against odds, that she can do that in good faith.

“Mera,” Atlanna repeats. “When we’re alone, you may call me just Atlanna. ‘Your Highness’ is for court.”

“Alright, Atlanna,” Mera says timidly.

Atlanna smiles, pleased. “Have you been this close to the surface before?” she asks.

“No,” Mera says. “My father doesn’t go near the surface, he says it’s disgusting.”

“Parts of it,” Atlanna concedes, “but not all. Parts of it are beautiful.” She looks wistful, and Mera remembers the stories: once, this queen of Atlantis fled to the surface, stayed there and hoped she was free. Imagine! Feeling you controlled your own destiny, even if just for a year or two. _That_ would be beautiful.

The surface, no offense meant, seems less that. She knows better than to say that, though.

“I was sorry to hear of your mother,” Atlanna murmurs, taking Mera’s hand, and Mera almost cries out in surprise. Nobody speaks of her mother here, as if dying (even of reasonable causes!) was somehow shameful. But didn’t her father bring them to Atlantis so they could find something to fill the void their mother left? That’s how it seemed.

No, he brought them to court to use them.

“Mera?” Atlanna asks. “Are you alright?”

“You’re the first one to so much as mention Mother!” Mera exclaims, feeling the anger crash over her like the tide. “It’s like Father has already forgotten her, or he wants to, because he’s afraid to feel anything! And Hila just goes along with it because she’s a _sycophant_ , and if she likes it here so much why isn’t she the one being betrothed to your son? I was meant to rule, not… not decorate Orm’s arm.”

Atlanna regards the young girl curiously. “You’re going through a lot all at once,” she says carefully, “it’s understandable you -”

Mera yelps suddenly, hiding her face. “I didn’t mean that all you do is decorate the king’s arm!”

“Sometimes it feels like that,” Atlanna admits, smiling though it’s hardly funny. Suddenly Mera is furious on the queen’s behalf. “As if my existence is ceremonial.”

Mera pulls a face. “How do you stand it?”

“I remind myself that I do have an important job,” says Atlanna. “I protect the people I care for, I inspire them, I live for them.”

“That sounds empty,” Mera says without thinking.

“Not so,” Atlanna replies gently. “And even if it is, it’s my duty.”

“Is it my duty to marry Orm?” Mera asks after a moment, wrinkling her nose. “I’m sorry, Your Hi - Atlanna, but I don’t like him.”

Atlanna sighs. “Orm can be difficult,” she says.

“He kissed me without my permission,” Mera says. “He told me we were to be engaged and then he kissed me.”

“Oh, dear,” Atlanna says, also making a face. “That’s not… he should not have done that.”

Mera is smart enough to look contrite when she admits, “I hit him after he did. Then I fled.”

Unexpectedly, Atlanna pulls Mera into a hug. “I don’t blame you or wish you had done any different,” she whispers fiercely before moving back and adding, “I’ll speak to him about this. He shouldn’t feel he can touch you without permission.”

“I’d like him not to touch me at all,” Mera mumbles.

“For now, he won’t unless you tell him otherwise,” Atlanna promises. “Someday, you will have certain expectations to fulfill…”

“I know about copulation,” Mera interrupts, stubborn like she doesn’t need Atlanna to be vague about it.

Atlanna laughs weakly. “That is one of the expectations, yes,” she says. “But sometimes things as small as kissing will be necessary, or him taking you by the hand. But that will come when you’re married, and those moments are the exception. Until then, and especially while you are both still children, he should know better than to put his hands on you.”

“Or his mouth,” Mera says.

“Or his mouth,” Atlanna agrees. “And if he doesn’t listen, I give you permission to deal with him as is proper for a noble daughter of Xebel.” She smiles to show she’s not making fun of Mera.

“I don’t think you would want me to dispense of him in ritual combat,” Mera says doubtfully. “But I’ll fight him off again if he continues to disrespect me.”

“I love my son,” Atlanna remarks, “but I expect the memory of losing to you once will be enough to keep him from tempting fate. He is like his father in that way.”

“What way is that?”

“He hates being bested, but especially by girls,” Atlanna explains.

“Why do the rules differ so for boys and girls?” Mera asks. “At home, I’m allowed to say and do a thousand things I can’t here, but the prince and his friends get away with them. Orm can sneak up and kiss me because our fathers gave me to him, but all I can do is complain about being given!”

“It’s unfair,” Atlanna agrees. “But Mera, sweet, you must not let anyone else hear you say this. They won’t understand your frustrations.”

Mera scoffs. “My mother is gone,” she says. “Who would I tell? Hila? She’d laugh! This is the life she’s always dreamed of. Why can’t she just marry Orm for me?”

“I don’t know,” Atlanna says. “You are the better candidate, I suppose.”

Something dawns on Mera. “It’s because I can do this,” she says, and she lifts a neat starfish sculpted from water, then destroys it with a splash. “I’m stronger than Hila, so I’m a better weapon.”

Atlanna frowns like she wants to dispute this, but she knows she can’t. “Maybe so,” she says. “There are many reasons it could have happened, but whichever it was, this is the way now.”

“Is that why you went to the surface?” Mera asks, peering up. “Not wanting to be queen?”

Atlanna looks surprised, like she didn’t expect Mera to know or ask that. “I tried to follow my heart,” she says softly. “But I had a duty, and it was selfish to try and run from it.”

“Following your heart is selfish?” Mera asks.

“I would rather make myself hurt than put people I love in danger,” Atlanna says, turning her head as if to be done with that topic.

Mera blinks. She doesn’t like that those are the only two options, but she understands. “I wish there were other ways,” she says.

“Maybe there will be someday,” Atlanna says with a faraway look. “Maybe it’s on the horizon.”

Mera squints. The horizon from this vantage is just more ocean, and she can hardly see through to the surface where what she knows is the technical horizon is, but probably the queen was being more metaphorical than that. “Maybe,” she says hesitantly. “No offense meant, but I hope it comes before I have to marry Orm.”

“It is not the match I would have made,” Atlanna confesses. “Perhaps you will change your mind, but perhaps not. I hope that whatever the end result, you are happy.” She pauses to smile, almost like they share a secret (and maybe they do). “Besides, if you marry my son, then we’ll be family.”

Mera lights up. “I would like that very much,” she says.

“I thought you might,” Atlanna says fondly. “Now, let’s make up a good story to explain our absence, hm?”

“A lie?” Mera exclaims, too shocked considering she’d tried to do that exact thing earlier.

“A version of the truth that won’t make anyone suspicious of us,” Atlanna corrects. “That’s what politics are, after all.”

“Well, Orm has probably already told everyone that I hit him and fled,” Mera says. “So that has to stay.”

“Then so will his kiss,” Atlanna declares. “He should have to face the embarrassment of doing that. You reacted defensively, just as you’ve been trained, and then you panicked.”

“That’s what did happen,” Mera says, confused.

“Can you pretend you were more upset about hitting the prince than about having to marry him?” Atlanna asks, an apology in her tone. “More upset about hitting _specifically_ the prince?”

“Oh,” Mera says. “Yes, I can.” She clearly doesn’t like it, but she can.

“So you found me so we could talk, woman to woman,” Atlanna continues. “That will do.”

“Alright,” Mera agrees, feeling a blush creep over her cheeks (nobody calls her a woman! She’s still just a girl). “Thank you for understanding.”

“Of course, sweet,” Atlanna says, hugging Mera again. “Here, let me braid your hair. That explains our long absence as well as anything else.”

“Yes, please,” Mera says eagerly.


End file.
